In which Myrtle Dies and Haunts Olive Hornby
by maya selene
Summary: myrtle's death written from both her and olive's point of view. i like this one, mainly because myrtle's my favourite character and i luv anything to do with her ^_^ review anyone??


MOANING MYRTLE:  
  
My name is Myrtle Amanda Spiffington, but thanks to that horrid Olive Hornby, people call me Moaning Myrtle. Oh, they thought I didn't know that they were whispering about me behind my back, but I knew they were, I knew they were calling me gloomy and dull and spotty, and they kept on teasing me, even when I was dead.  
I can still remember how I died, and I blame it all on Olive Hornby. If she hadn't been teasing me about my glasses then I would have never run away. It was entirely her fault and no one else is blame for it.  
It was ever such a shock to us when my older sister Opal found that she was a witch. We had no idea about the wizarding world at all. My brother Patrick was a wizard as well, so it was no surprise to anyone when I found out I had also been accepted into Hogwarts.  
My first day to Hogwarts was depressingly cloudy, and it looked as though it were about to rain. I sat on the Hogwarts Express by myself. There were some sixth year girls in the carriage with me, but they completely ignored me and acted as though I didn't exist. The train was making my stomach churn, so I was glad when it finally slowed to stop.  
The first years were to go the rest of the way to Hogwarts in little boats they had set out for us. I was joined in my boat by two hard-faced twins with brown hair, and an enormous boy who took up half the boat. His name, he said, was Reubus Hagrid.  
I wasn't sure if I liked Hagrid (I certainly didn't like the twins who leered at me unpleasantly throughout the whole boat ride), and I was more than happy to get out of the boat, but less happy when we were taken into the castle and the Sorting began.  
We were sorted into four houses, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. My name was near the end.   
Opal and Patrick had both been sorted into different houses, Opal was in Ravenclaw and Patrick was a Hufflepuff. I watched Reubus Hagrid being sorted into Gryffindor, and the twins that had sat with me on the boat had both gone to the Slytherin table. Then it was my turn.  
I sat on the stool and put on the hat.  
"Hmm," said a little voice in my ear. "You could be quite clever if you put your mind to it, yes indeed, but you aren't a Ravenclaw, and you're not a Slytherin either... I can see a lot of courage in you, very deep down inside, but yes, it's still there... I think you'd do well in GRYFFINDOR!" The hat yelled out the last word. Feeling a little dazed, I took off the hat and walked to the Gryffindor table where everyone was cheering me.  
After the feast, we walked into our common room and went upstairs into the dormitories. I chose a bed and fell fast asleep.  
  
OLIVE HORNBY:  
I woke up the next morning and for a moment, I wondered where I was. Then I remembered, I was at Hogwarts and had just been sorted into Gryffindor!  
I pulled open the curtains around my bed, and saw that everyone else was already up. My cousin, Barbara, was in the bed beside me. I was so glad we were in the same house together. We had grown up with each other because her parents were Unspeakables for the Ministry, and spent a lot of time traveling, so she lived with us whenever her parents went abroad.  
On the bed on the other side of me was a miserable looking girl with brown hair and awful thick glasses, and I could see two other girls on the other side of the room, one with blond hair and the other with red.  
"Hello," I said, looking around at everyone. "My name is Olive Hornby, what's yours?"  
"Mine's Ella Wendall," said the blond haired girl across the room.  
"And I'm Ida Gupped," said the red head.  
"My name's Barbara, I'm Olive's cousin," said Barb. She looked at the girl with glasses next to me. "And what's you're name?" she asked her kindly.  
"I'm Myrtle Spiffington," said the girl gloomily. She pushed her glasses up higher on her nose and stared around he,r looking depressed.  
"Are you always like that?" I asked her.  
"Like what?"  
"Always so gloomy. I've never seen a girl look more sorry in my life. You're parents should have called you Moaning Myrtle, you're so miserable."  
"Shh, Olive, you'll make her all upset," Barbara hissed at me, but I could hear Ella and Ida giggling behind me. Myrtle looked even more depressed. I felt sorry for her.  
'Cheer up," I said. "We've got our first lesson soon, Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, and then we have Potions with the Slytherins. Let's go down to breakfast now."  
And that, I suppose, is how Myrtle got her nick name, "Moaning Myrtle."  
  
MOANING MYRTLE:  
The attacks began in my third year. People were suddenly found frozen in corridors with identical expressions of horror on their faces. Teachers said they had been Petrified. Somebody had written on the wall near the toilets, "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware."  
It was said that the monster of Slytherin had been set loose and was trying to rid the school of all Muggle borns and Squibs. I was the only Muggle born in my dormitory, besides Ida, who was a half blood.  
However, I had other things to worry about. Nobody in my dormitory seemed to like me. Ida and Ella had become best friends, and Olive and Barbara were always together. Barbara was kind to me, but Olive was horrid. She was always teasing me about my glasses and she kept on telling me to stop being such a misery and to cheer up. I hated her. Barbara would often come to comfort me when I was upset.  
"Don't be so sad," she would say. "Olive's just teasing, you needn't pay any attention to her. Come on back to the common room and we can have a game of exploding snap."  
"I won't go if Olive's in there," I replied stubbornly, and the conversation would often end with Barbara throwing up her hands in frustration and leaving me in the bathroom by myself.  
The day I died was all because of Olive. If she hadn't teased me, I'd still be alive. We were outside the Potions room, waiting for the teacher to come in, when Olive said to me, "Oh Myrtle, you're glasses are a funny color. Why don't you get new ones that don't make you look like owl?"  
I buried my face in my hands and ran back up the corridor crying. Students hadn't been allowed to go down corridors on their own since the attacks had started, but I didn't care. Everyone was horrid to me, especially Olive. I ran into the toilets and sat down on the seat to cry and ponder how horrible my life was. Oh, how I hated that Olive Hornby.  
That was when I heard someone else come into the bathroom. At first I thought it was just Barbara coming in to persuade me to get back into class, but then the person whispered something, in another language I think, all hissing and spitting. But what really got to me was the fact that it was a boy's voice, and this was a girls' bathroom, so I opened the door to tell whoever it was to go away.  
"You aren't meant to be here, this is a girl--"  
Then I saw the eyes. They were a huge pair of yellow eyes. I felt myself go cold all over. Then I suddenly fell straight forward on my face.  
I died.  
  
OLIVE HORNBY:  
  
"Oh, now look what you've done," said Barbara staring after Myrtle's retreating back in dismay. "Why did you have to get her all upset? You know how much she hates being teased about her glasses. And she isn't meant to be going up the corridor by herself because of the attacks, you know, and she is Muggle born..."  
'Oh, don't be stupid," I said, a bit uncomfortably. I hadn't thought she'd be silly enough to go rushing up the corridor alone. "What's going to get her now? As if the monster of Slytherin is going to go hunting when everyone's in class."  
Barbara just pursed her lips and didn't say anything. Professor Dippet suddenly appeared over the heads of the students and pushed his way to the front.  
"Settle down, you lot!" he said over the noise. "I'm taking you today. There was another attack this morning."  
The noise died almost instantly.  
"Yes," said Professor Dippet sighing heavily. "Professor Tyalli was found outside his office with a glass of water next to him. He has been Petrified."  
Everyone began whispering to each other. What power could be so terrible it could hurt even a teacher? I felt more uncomfortable still. Eventually, the noise died down and Professor Dippet led us into the dungeons.  
I forgot about Myrtle as soon as the lesson started. Apparently, Professor Tyalli's attack was not enough to stop us from beginning Shrinking Solutions. It kept me so busy and occupied that it took all left over thoughts of Myrtle out of my head.  
Professor Dippet seemed to be counting us as we were working. He frowned.  
"One of you are missing," he said. "The girl with the sad face... Myrtle Spiffington. Where is she?"  
The uneasy feeling came back into the pit of my stomach.  
"Oh, she went to the bathroom a while ago," I said quickly. Barbara shot me a disproving look. "I'll go and get her if you like." Then I ran out the door before Professor Dippet could say anything.  
I quickly made my way up the stairs to the second floor. I was confident that nothing would attack me. I was, after all, a pure-blood witch.  
I reached the doorway to the toilets, straightened up my hair (I didn't want Myrtle thinking I had been worried about her) and walked inside.  
"Are you in here sulking again, Myrtle?" I said with a little sigh, glad that my voice gave no signs of anxiety. "Professor Dippet sent me to look for you--"  
That was when I saw it. Moaning Myrtle. She was slumped against the toilet wall, all white and ghastly with a shocked look on her face. I felt like the world had just dropped from beneath my feet.  
"Myrtle!" I said running towards her. "Myrtle! Are you alright?" I knelt down next to her, pulled her up on my lap and shook her. "Myrtle. Don't be dead. Please don't be dead."  
Her eyes remained closed. Her head slipped down from my grip and clunked gently on the bathroom floor.  
There was no denying it.  
She was dead.  
And it was all my fault.  
  
MOANING MYRTLE:  
The next thing I felt was an odd tugging, ordering me to go up. I didn't want to go up, I wanted to stay. I felt the tugging again, this time a little more firmly. I ignored it and looked around.  
I saw myself, lying on the ground out cold. My face was all white and my eyes were strange and glassy.  
"What... what am I doing down there," I said aloud. I tried to move towards myself but I couldn't. Something was pushing me back.  
I looked down at myself and screamed. I was all white and transparent. I looked like... I looked like a ghost!  
So did that... did that mean I was dead? And I was only a ghost, just pearly white vapor?  
I took a deep breath and tried to take it all in. Whatever had been attacking all the students had killed me. I was dead and it was all Olive's fault. Ooh, she was going to pay for this.  
I decided to wait until they found my body. Then I was going to haunt Olive Hornby to her dying day. I discovered how to make myself invisible.  
And so I waited and watched, until finally, Olive Hornby walked into the room to ask if I had been sulking again.  
She would be sorry.  
  
OLIVE HORNBY:  
I jumped up and ran out of the toilets. I was scared peeless. Myrtle was dead and it was all my fault! If only I hadn't teased her, if only...  
I stood in the corridor wondering what to do. Should I tell Professor Dippet first? Or should I just alert everyone now?  
I took a deep breath and yelled as loud as I could. "ATTACK!!! ATTACK, ATTACK, ATTACK!!! THERE'S BEEN ANOTHER ATTACK ON A THIRD YEAR. HELP!!!"  
Doors across the corridor slammed open, one after the other. There was such confusion, and everyone was only silent when Professor Dumbledore, our Transfiguration teacher, sent up a loud bang which silenced everyone.  
"Everyone back to your classrooms immediately," he said sharply. "I will deal with the situation alone."  
Everyone, rather reluctantly it seemed, turned and walked back to their classrooms. Dumbledore turned his cool blue eyes towards me.  
"Where is she, Miss Hornby?" he said.  
I pointed a shaking finger towards the bathroom door.  
'It's Myrtle Spiffington," I said. "I-- I think she's..." I couldn't bring myself to say the word. Especially as I had been the one that had caused her death.  
Dumbledore strode quickly past me and into the bathroom. I followed him. I saw him bend down and examine her closely for a while. Then he turned back to face me, his face pale and his eyes dark.  
"She is, indeed, dead," he said quietly. My heart dropped down to my toes. My insides felt strangely hollow. I had somehow convinced myself that if a teacher was there, she'd be alright. Now I realized how foolish I was to believe that. "Olive," Professor Dumbledore said. "Please go and fetch Professor Dippet. He is the Headmaster and is in the best position to deal with the situation."  
I nodded. Then I ran out of the room.  
*****  
I had been on my bed crying for what seemed like hours when Barbara suddenly drew the curtains apart and sat down next to me.  
"Oh, Barbara," I sobbed, "It was so horrible, it was all my fault I..." I threw my arms around her neck and howled. Barbara tried to comfort me.  
"Don't be silly, Olive, it wasn't your fault, it was that horrible monster of Slytherin's, you know it, you..."  
"It was all my fault, Barbara, and you know it! Oh, if only I hadn't teased her about her glasses, she mightn't be dead. Oh, it's all my fault..."  
"There, there." Barbara patted my back helplessly. She didn't seem to know what to do. Behind her, I could see Ida and Ella through a crack in the curtains, both looking miserable and whispering among each other.  
"Please don't tell anyone," I said to her. "Don't tell anyone that I killed her."  
"But Olive--"  
"Please," I said again.  
Barbara sighed heavily. "Alright," she said. "I won't tell anyone."  
  
MOANING MYRTLE:  
I followed Olive up into the dormitory, and waited until she was asleep. The I went right through her ears. She woke up with jump.  
"Who's there?" she said sharply. I could see that her eyes were all red and blotchy from when she had been crying a few hours before. I knew it was only because she felt so guilty about killing me.  
"It's me," I said, making myself visible. "The one you call Moaning Myrtle." I could see Olive go pale. Her eyes went wide. She was scared. I was glad.  
"M-Myrtle," I heard her say. "You're... you're a ghost."  
"Yes," I said. "Look what you've done to me, Olive. I'm nothing now... nothing but mist and vapor. You killed me, Olive. It's all because of you."  
"I'm-- I'm sorry," Olive said. She was trembling. "I didn't mean to, honestly..."  
"Do you think saying sorry is going to help?" I demanded. "Do you think saying sorry is going to give me my life back?"  
"No, but--"  
"It isn't," I snapped. "I will never get a chance to live again. I'm going to get you for this, Olive."  
"I'm so sorry, Myrtle," said Olive, a tear trickling down her cheek. "I didn't mean to..."  
"You knew I was Muggle born. You knew the monster of Slytherin was loose," I said. "But you let me go anyway. Ooh, you are going to pay for this Olive. You are going to pay."  
  
OLIVE HORNBY:  
Myrtle made my life a living hell. I dreaded getting up every day because I knew I would have to face her. She knew how to make herself invisible, and got me at the worst of times.  
She crawled under tables to tie my shoe laces together, tripped me in stair cases, pushed my books to the ground, threw ingredients into my cauldron when I wasn't looking and tossed my food across the table.   
I couldn't do a thing to stop her. I was scared she would tell someone that I had killed her. The only person I felt able to talk to about it was Barbara. She urged me to tell Dippet.  
"You have to tell someone," she said. "You can't just spend the rest of your life being harassed by her stupid ghost."  
"But I can't," I said miserably. "Do you know what the punishment is for murder? A life sentence in Azkaban!"  
"How many times do I have to tell you, you didn't do it," said Barbara wearily. "It was the monster of Slytherin..."  
But she was cut off by the fact that Myrtle had just swooped down, invisible, and spilt ink all over my Transfiguration homework.  
I sighed as I got out new parchment to start again.  
She was ruining my life.  
  
MOANING MYRTLE:  
I haunted Olive all through her years Hogwarts, and did some pretty horrible things to her there, but nothing ever compared to what I did to her at her brother's wedding.  
She had just graduated from Hogwarts and her brother Patrick had gotten married to a very pretty witch in frilly white dress robes. Olive was the bridesmaid and she was dancing with Ronald Underwood.  
I was furious at her for that. There she was, dancing with the man of her dreams, while I, the victim, was floating around as a ghost. Oh, she made me angry! I saw she was dancing near the buffet table. Then it came to me. I knew exactly what I had to do to humiliate her.  
I waited until her and Ronald waltzed right near the top of the table. She was smiling and laughing. But I would soon wipe the smile from her face.  
I timed it perfectly. I waited until she had her back to the table, then gave her a hard push. She screamed and went skidding all the way down the table, shoving plates of food to the floor. In all the confusion, nobody noticed I had taken the punch bowl and flown it straight into the air.   
Olive fell off the end of the table, her blue robes stained with food. She looked as though she was going to cry.   
I dropped the punch bowl. I made sure it landed directly on her head.  
  
OLIVE HORNBY:  
I sat there humiliated, orange punch dripping down my neck and into my robes. Not that it mattered, my robes were stained anyway. I pulled the punch bowl from my head, and looked around to see everyone staring at me in shocked silence.  
The laughter started as a snort. The snort turned into a guffaw, and then suddenly, the whole room was laughing.   
I looked around, hoping to see a kind face who would help me, but there was no one. Even Barbara looked like she was trying not to laugh. I locked my gaze on Ronald. He was doubled over with laughter.  
It was too much. Myrtle had gone too far. With an angry cry, I ran from the room.  
*****  
I had had enough. I didn't care if I had to spend the rest of my life in Azkaban. I just wanted Myrtle to stop stalking me.   
I marched determinedly up to the building, trying to ignore the churning feeling that had started up in my stomach. I was going to get rid of Myrtle once and for all.  
I went nervously up to the receptionist. "I'm here to see Jerome Jayside," I said.  
The receptionist looked bordly at her fingernails. "Sure. Just down the corridor, third door to your left."  
I thanked her and went quickly down the corridor. I stopped in front of the door she had instructed and knocked.  
"Come in," said a deep voice and I walked inside.  
Mr Jayside was sitting at his desk reading the Daily Prophet and snorting. He glanced up when I came in. "Ah, hello. Olive Hornby, isn't it?"  
I nodded. "Yes." He put down his paper.  
"So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?" Mr Jayside said.  
Quickly, and before I lost my nerve, I blurted out the entire story of how I had teased Myrtle so many years ago, how she had died, how she had haunted me ever since and all about what happened at Patrick's wedding....  
"...and she won't stop bothering me, and now I expect I shall have to go over to Azkaban now that you know it was my fault she died," I concluded miserably, staring at the ground.  
There was a long silence. Then Mr Jayside said, "Olive, I don't blame you at all. It was unfortunate, but certainly not your fault that Myrtle Spiffington died. You will not be sent to Azkaban, and we will make sure that Myrtle will not haunt you anymore."  
I don't know if he were more surprised or I was when I suddenly jumped up and hugged him. "Thank-you, Mr Jayside," I said.  
  
MOANING MYRTLE:  
Olive got me in the end. They forced me to stop following her, and now I'm back in the bathroom. I'm determined to make it the most miserable place in the world, so that nobody will ever come here unless they can help it.  
I do hate that Olive Hornby. She always seems to win.  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
